Page 36 of Brigand

Relief—sweet, coiling relief—gushed through him at the sightof Violet’s slight form curled on the bed, limned in the light of a dying fire.A tiny snore rumbled through the room.

He nearly collapsed.

“She’s here.”

“Thank God.”

Ewan nodded. He ran his fingers through his hair. When hethought of the disasters that could have befallen her out in these woods,utterly alone, his pulse surged again. A new emotion deposed his anxiety.

Fury.

Fury that she’d run from him. Fury that she’d put herself inperil. Fury that, hell, she’d left.

They’d only been apart for a day and his soul roiled andchurned to be with her again. Something inside him, some beast, snarled to,once again, claim dominion over her.

Colin’s chuckle ripped him from his reverie, dismal thoughit was. “Aren’t we going in?”

Ewan blew out a breath. “I’m going in. I don’t think shewould appreciate witnesses. Can you go back to the Cloud and let everyone knowwe found her? I’ll bring her back tomorrow. It’s a much shorter walk if youfollow the track. It leads straight to the pier.”

Colin’s eyes glinted. A grin split his face. “I don’t envythat girl when you get your hands on her.”

Ewan grunted. Anger rode him hard. Anger and frustration andsome odd brand of joy.

He’d found her.

But he would make damn sure she never ran from him again.

Colin whistled for Wolfe and the two made their way backdown the track. Ewan waited until they disappeared before he opened the door tothe cabin again. He needed a little time. To rein in his whipping emotions.

If he went in there straightaway, he’d probably turn herover his knee.

Hell. He might do that anyway.

As it was, he didn’t turn her over his knee. He went intothe cabin and sat by the fire and nibbled the remnants of cheese on the table,and watched her sleep.

He shouldn’t have. It was galling. It was painful. It wasfrightening.

When the hell had he come to care so much?

Oh, he had loved her when he was a boy, no doubt about it.But those feelings had been dead for years. This new emotion, this was somethingelse entirely. It wasn’t sweet or pleasant or warm.

It was cold and desperate need.

Not just a need for her body, although there was that. Evenas he watched her sleep, so innocent and pure, his cock stirred.

No. It was something more.

He yearned to be hers in every sense of the word. Hewanted—nae, demanded—her complete adoration. He found it difficult to breathewithout it.

She had run today because he’d hurt her, disappointed her.He knew it.

Her discontent with him was like bile in his throat.

He ached to be a man of whom she could be proud.

And he was not.

That only added fuel to his simmering rage.